


Another Year Over

by ponderinfrustration



Series: Late Nights in Baker Street [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Star Gazing, heartfelt confessions, rooftop dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderinfrustration/pseuds/ponderinfrustration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys mark the first anniversary of the pool explosion on the roof of Barts' Hospital</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Year Over

It's almost impossible to see any stars above London. The lights of the city have a tendency to block out the celestial. But there's no denying that vampire eyesight is a help and especially when lying on the roof of Barts' Hospital.

It was John's idea, though most would expect it of Sherlock. Sherlock had been more inclined towards using the lab for the night. (Such things are much easier now with their inability to show up on camera, and Sherlock's excellent breaking and entry skills.) But John had insisted that they should do something different for the anniversary of Sherlock's death, and Sherlock learned a long time ago that when John insists, it's safer for all involved to obey.

So they lay there on the rooftop side by side, neither speaking, both simply enjoying the other's silent company. (It's much more enjoyable than Sherlock had thought it would be, but he's not about to admit that.) Each has distinctive memories of that night. Sherlock's is his finger on the trigger, and John's face hovering over him when he started breathing again. For John, he's never been able to forget a detail of the night, and it likely won't ever happen. But most especially he remembers the sensations - Sherlock's unmoving lips beneath his, the huff of Sherlock's faint breath against his neck, Sherlock's pulse beneath his fingers as it grew fainter and fainter before being lost forever. Those are seared in his memory, and hardly a night goes by when one or another doesn't come back to him. (As if he needs something else after the memory of Korea haunted him for so long.)

"Sherlock." John's voice is quiet in the darkness, and Sherlock glances at his lover out of the side of his eye. John isn't looking at him, instead intently watching the lights of an aeroplane in the night sky.

"Yes, John?"

"I love you."

Sherlock smiles, a burst of happiness in his chest though John's told him that a bunch of times (and Sherlock remembers each of them, or at least, all of the times that he's heard it.)

"I know, John. I love you too."

John rolls over, giving up on pretending to watch the sky and pressing his lips to Sherlock's. "No. I mean, I really love you. I love you more than you could possibly imagine. I thought I'd lost you once, and I don't ever want to go through that again."

Sherlock tugs John's head down and kisses him again. "I know, John. I know. But it was necessary for us to have this now, though when I asked you to change me I never thought it'd come as quickly." Another kiss. "I wouldn't know what to do without you."

They curl up together on the rooftop, though it isn't the most comfortable place they've ever been, John's nose in Sherlock's curls, Sherlock's face against John's chest. (He often wonders what it would be like if a living heart still beat there, but he also knows that they'd never have met then, so there's no point in wondering. It's just that he can't help wondering about these things sometimes.)

"Do you ever wonder if there's something after this?" John murmurs, voice muffled by Sherlock's hair.

John, we have centuries ahead of us. There's no point worrying about these things." (Though he says it, Sherlock knows well the way in which centuries can be cut into minutes. Where John is concerned, he only allows himself to imagine centuries.)

"I suppose you're right."

Sherlock unfolds himself, hearing the strains of a violin waltz from some indeterminate point in the city. Standing, he pulls John up with him, positioning his hands just so.

"One dance," he says softly. "One dance, and then we'll go back to Baker Street." Lips meet again, soft, gentle, and together both vampires celebrate the wonders of the afterlife.


End file.
